


Magic Sword Pocket Guy

by Severely_Lupine



Series: Methos the Muggle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severely_Lupine/pseuds/Severely_Lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have to get them somewhere, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Sword Pocket Guy

"I've got a problem, Ted," said Methos, sans greeting, as he strolled into Ted Tonks's shop as casually as if they'd only seen each other just yesterday and not fifteen years ago.

Ted smiled.  "Let me guess.  Need a coat?"

"You're good."

"It's why I'm here."

Actually, it was only part of why he was here.  On the surface, his small shop in a nondescript side-street in London was one of the less impressive boutiques, which saw only minimal Muggle patronage.  Its primary reason for existing was to give a place for wizards and witches to find reasonably-priced, utterly unmemorable Muggle clothing for times when they needed to pass as one, without drawing attention to themselves as they searched the shelves without the first clue where to start.  At least once a day, Ted had to explain to someone how to do up a zipper.

And then there was the back room.  The back room was meant for clientele that neither Muggles nor wizards, on the whole, even knew existed.  The back room was for Immortals.

Ted had first learned about Immortals when he was fifteen, home for the summer, and he went with his brother on a hiking trip which ended with Tim falling fifty feet from a cliff and landing on his head.  In the next twenty-four hours, Ted's world had been utterly changed for the second time in his life.  They'd found out that Tim was not quite human, and that he was adopted.  Ted wasn't sure which was more traumatizing. 

Since then, Ted had come to learn a lot about these people who called themselves, rather obviously yet inaccurately, Immortals.  Given that the entire race existed for the sole purpose of destroying itself and the top goal of every Immortal was to kill other Immortals, there wasn't much of an organized Immortal community to speak of, but often where there was one, there'd be another one or two they were friends with (presumably preferring to put killing them off until they'd killed everyone they didn't like first). 

It was Andromeda who first saw the profit potential, once he'd let her in on it after getting her promise not to tell anyone.  These Immortals, almost to a man, carried swords (or occasionally another sort of bladed weapon).  Now, in these days, one couldn't simply saunter around with a scabbard at one's hip, so they needed some way to keep their swords on them in case they should find themselves fighting for their lives while dropping off the post, but which wouldn't cause alarm with law enforcement and the general population.

As none of these Immortals (that Ted knew of) were witches or wizards, they couldn't do the Extension Charm on the pockets themselves, which is where he came in.

"Still the same size, I take it?" Ted asked as he led Methos into the back room and closed the door.  His shop assistant could handle things out front if they got any other customers.  His Immortal customers always got his priority attention.  It was just good business. 

"I've been the same size since before clothes had sizes," Methos said, shucking off his jacket—which Ted could see had a large, blood-stained gash in the side.  Methos tossed it over one of the racks, then gave Ted an appraising look, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Ted's paunch.  "You, on the other hand, seem to have filled out a bit."

Ted laughed, not denying it.  "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Oh, just the usual," Methos said, strolling through the racks of pre-charmed coats.  "Long, boring-looking trench coat.  Something a grad student might wear."

"Ah," Ted said.  When he'd first met Methos, the Immortal had been a fine jewelry merchant.  He pointed to the clearance rack.  "You might try that one.  I presume you'll want to at least _look_ like you're on a budget."

"Mm," Methos hummed, and went to the rack.

"Killed anyone interesting, lately?" Ted asked by way of small talk.  He couldn't say he was exactly comfortable with the lifestyle, but who was he to judge? 

"Not lately, no," Methos answered distractedly.  "These days I spend most of my time researching myself."

"Is that a figure of speech or . . ."

"Nope," Methos said and didn't elaborate further.  "How's your kid?  Nymphadora, wasn't it?  I see she hasn't yet exacted horrible revenge for that name."

Ted chuckled.  "No, but she's been going by our last name since she was in school.  Even tried to get Dromeda and I to call her Tonks, if you can believe it.  Of course, she'll have to make the switch soon.  It'd be strange for a married woman to go by her father's name."

Methos looked up from the rack of coats.  "Married?  But she's only—"

"Twenty-four.  Not all of us are frozen in time.  Unfortunately."

Something in his face must have given him away, because Methos said, "You don't like the guy."

"No, I like him fine," Ted answered honestly.  "He's . . . well, he's a bit old for her."

Methos went back to browsing through the racks.  "Unless he was born in the Stone Age, you're looking to the wrong guy for sympathy.  My last wife was thirty-five centuries younger than me."

That stunned Ted into a laugh.  "Maybe you're right.  In the grand scheme of things, what's thirteen years?"  He shifted on his feet, hesitating, then adding, "He's also a werewolf."

Methos frowned.  "An obstacle, but not an insurmountable one.  It _is_ just the once a month, right?"

"You think I'm being paranoid."

"I think you're being a good father.  Believe me; I've seen enough bad ones to know the difference."  He moved to another rack of slightly higher-priced coats.  "The questions are: is this what she truly wants, and do you trust her?"

"Yes."

"Then stop worrying.  I'm sure you have larger issues to deal with than your daughter marrying the man she loves." 

Ted fiddled with a loose hanger on the rack nearest him.  Finally, he said, "You know that war we had a while back?"

"The one with the _other_ crazy German?"

"No, the more recent one.  The one I was actually alive for."

Methos thought for a moment.  "Ah, yes.  The guy with the serpent fixation.  As if it takes Freud to figure _him_ out.  What about it?"

"It's back on."

Methos stopped and looked at him.  "But everyone said he died."

Ted shook his head.  "We thought he did, but turns out we were wrong.  He just went away, and now he's back, stronger than ever.  He's got his old crew back, most of whom spent the past twelve years going mad in prison, and recruited a lot of new faces as well."

"He's not one of us?" Methos asked, looking concerned for the first time.

"I don't think so," replied Ted.  "In fact, I'm almost positive, if Dumbledore knows what he's talking about, which he always does.  He wishes he was one of you, though.  I don't think he knows you lot exist, or he'd be rounding up every last one of you to see how you manage it."

That seemed to ease Methos's mind, as he went back to browsing.

"We could use help from people like you, you know," Ted said.

Methos pondered this.  "Hmm . . . Pick a fight with raving lunatics who can incapacitate and decapitate me from twenty paces.  No thanks."

"They wouldn't know how to kill you.  They're far more likely to use the Killing Curse."

"And when that doesn't work?"  Methos pulled a black coat off its hanger.  "If this guy doesn't know we exist, I'd sure as hell like to keep it that way."

"If we can't stop him, hiding may not be an option for you any more.  It'll all come out, and it'll be a full-scale world war—one the Muggles won't be able to win.  And how long do you think the secret of Immortals will stay secret once the world's greatest mind-reader has those kind of resources at his disposal?"

"If there's one thing I've learned in my life, Ted, it's how to keep my head down.  And on."

"Are you sure you're not a wizard?" Ted asked.  "Because you sound like a Slytherin."

"I knew Slytherin," Methos muttered, inspecting the coat.  "Bastard still owes me twenty Galleons.  And that was back when twenty Galleons could buy you ten horses and a passably attractive slave girl."

"Well, there you go," offered Ted.  "You-Know-Who is Slytherin's last remaining heir.  If you won't join our cause to save the world, join it to get your twenty Galleons back."

Methos laughed.  "Spoken with all the cunning I'd expect from one of Helga's brood."

Ted shook his head.  It was a sign of just how bad things were getting with the war that he was even trying to recruit someone who had no stakes in it whatsoever—not yet, anyway.

"You can't hide forever, you know," Ted said.  "If we don't win this thing—"

"You will," Methos assured him, clapping a hand on Ted's shoulder, the black coat over his other arm.  "You may not all survive, but you'll win.  Your type is too stubborn not to."

"And you're all right with that?" Ted asked, trying not to sound as bitter as he knew he did.  "Letting other people fight your battles?"

"It's not my battle yet," Methos said lightly.

"And if it _becomes_ your battle?"

Methos pulled the new jacket on, picked up his old coat, and drew his sword from the hidden pocket inside.  He slid it into the inside pocket on the new coat, testing the fit.  It disappeared smoothly, leaving no trace on the outside, just as it was meant to.

"Then I'll do what I need to to survive," Methos said vaguely, patting the outside of the coat.  "Just like always."

Ted just shook his head and led Methos back into the main shop.  Methos gave him a handful of Muggle money—more than the coat cost, but he didn't wait for change.

"Good luck."

"We'll need more than luck," Ted responded seriously.

"Yes," Methos said, turning to leave.  "You will."

He tossed Ted a wave as he went through the door, leaving the wizard staring after him, wondering if he'd ever see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a bit of trivia: The title for this comes from the term that the Highlander series crew used to describe the member of the crew who'd rush in while the Immortal actor was sort of paused to hand them the sword so that the actor could then pretend to pull it out of their coat as if it had been there all along.


End file.
